


When the Darkness Shrouds You

by Siancore



Series: Sambucky Bingo [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, I Made Myself Cry, M/M, PTSD, Physical Disability, Self-Esteem Issues, negative self-talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:20:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21764401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siancore/pseuds/Siancore
Summary: Written for Sambucky Bingo - Square Filled: Disability
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Series: Sambucky Bingo [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561825
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70
Collections: Sambucky Bingo





	When the Darkness Shrouds You

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this is okay. I don't like hurting them.

Everyone who knew him said that Bucky Barnes was a confident sonofabitch. He had a confident demeanor; always walked around with his head held high; never shied away from attention; he didn’t mind being in the spotlight: Somehow, somewhere along the way, all of that changed.

Well, to be more specific, it changed the day a roadside IED detonated and took his left arm. After that, Bucky was a little different. It wasn’t the fact that he would wake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, sleep plagued with nightmares from his trauma; or that he struggled with his rehabilitation; or that his self-esteem was so low that some days he wanted to hide away from everyone. No, it wasn’t all of that. Well, not really. But it was mostly the fact that he still hadn’t seen Sam face-to-face after everything had happened. That was almost two years ago.

They were both doing tours in different parts of the world for different branches of the armed forces when Bucky was injured. Sam couldn’t get leave when Bucky was sent home. And the longer that they had to wait, the worse Bucky felt. He knew he was being unreasonable with himself, and with Sam, but sometimes, when he was feeling particularly low, he figured Sam didn’t want him anymore. If he did, he’d come home, right?

_Bullshit._ He would chide himself. Sam Wilson was the best man he knew; he would never let something like a fucking battle wound change the way he felt about someone, least of all Bucky. No. Fucking. Way.

_Still_. When Bucky felt like shit, those words of doubt crept back in and told him Sam could never love him the same way now that he was – wait, what was he? The same guy he was before, minus one arm? He was the same guy and damn those doubtful thoughts to hell. Sam reminded him when they Skyped together.

“Stop being so hard on yourself. There’s nothin’ wrong with you, Buck,” Sam would say with an encouraging smile. His words helped Bucky, they really did, but he was going through a dark time. Sometimes, when the darkness shrouds you and seeps into your core, even the brightest light can’t guide you away from it.

“I know,” Bucky would reply, though he felt like he was lying to Sam because he didn’t believe those words.

And in two years, Sam hadn’t seen where they amputated his arm. Bucky always positioned the camera so that it showed him from his shoulders up. And Sam never pushed him to show it. He was just glad that the love of his life was alive. And though a lot had changed, Sam was resolute in the fact that his love for Bucky had not.

Sam was trying his best to be understanding, but he knew that sometimes Bucky just needed to vent. That he needed to curse and scream and let it all out. He knew Bucky just needed time to adjust; he knew he’d be okay.

It took Bucky a little longer to make their painfully empty bed in the mornings, with just one arm, and the weight of Sam’s absence hanging over him. He would get frustrated easily at the smallest things, like fixing his hair, or dressing himself. He had to get used to doing things differently; and his clothing needed small adjustments; and sometimes people fucking stared. But he was the same guy and there was nothing wrong with him.

Sam reminded him of this when he was feeling low. And goddamn it he was so thankful to have Sam in his life. He truly was, which is why he felt like a shitty person for even letting this particularly dark thought cross his mind: He didn’t want Sam to come home just yet. He didn’t want Sam to see him like that: Damaged and broken. Some days he felt like a failure.

“Be safe over there,” Sam had said to him. “Make sure you bring that flat ass back to me in one piece.”

Hell, Bucky couldn’t even do that for Sam. He couldn’t even –

_Shut up shut up shut up shut up! Shut the fuck up!_ He would tell himself again and yet again. When that didn’t work, and the darkness descended once more, even though he felt shitty, he silently hoped their reunion would be postponed by a week or two.

He was having a particularly bad day after a realization crept over him: The only people that ever touched him lately were medical professionals and he realized how much he was missing his Sammy’s touch. That bad day kept him in bed. When two days went by and Bucky got word that Sam was coming home, he cried. They both cried. Mostly out of joy and relief and for a tiny while Bucky was so damn happy. He missed his Sammy so, so much. He needed to be held. He needed to hold Sam. And then he remembered that part of him was missing.

_How you gonna hold him with one arm?_ That little voice asked.

_Shut the fuck up,_ Bucky replied to himself. Sam was coming home, and that’s all that mattered.

…..

He was all nerves and excitement the day before Sam was ready to come home. He had made sure they had food in the fridge and cupboards, especially Sam’s favorite snacks. He worked tirelessly to ensure that the house was tidy; that all of the photographs of the two of them were dusted; that the blinds were open; that there was fresh linen on their bed.

He did his best to make sure that their home was light and comfortable. He did his best to make sure they had everything they needed; that Sam would have everything he needed. Bucky may have been having a hard time adjusting, but Sam was coming home from war. And Bucky felt bad that, with everything that had happened to him, he could not meet his beloved at the airport.

There were just too many people there; too much noise. He wanted to be there to see Sam striding through the crowds, looking fucking regal and beautiful; he wanted to be there for when their eyes locked and their hearts were so full of love that there was barely room in their chests for anything else. He wanted to see Sam’s smile and his gorgeous eyes. He wanted to melt into his embrace. He wanted to kiss him; he wanted to reconnect. But he couldn’t do it at the airport. He just couldn’t. Not with all of those people there.

The night before Sam came home, sleep evaded Bucky for most of the evening. He found himself tossing and turning in the fresh sheets. He withdrew the covers so that the coolness of the air might lull him into slumber. When it did, bad dreams haunted him. In the first, he stood in the airport, and he saw Sam approaching. He smiled so wide; wider than he had in years. But it did not last, for his Sammy didn’t even notice him; he walked right by him. Bucky’s throat hurt as he called to Sam as he watched him walk away.

He woke covered in sweat. His sinking heart was beating way too fast, considering it was falling in his chest, and tears stung his eyes. His breathing was labored and his mind was racing. His nightmares always felt so real; the heartbreak of having Sam not know him felt so real. It felt as real as the tears streaming down his face were.

…..

Bucky checked the time once more. It felt like it was going way too fast, yet crawling along slowly. He woke up exhausted because of the bad dreams. The feeling of excitement, and a hint of fear, settled into his stomach when he registered that Sam would be home just after lunchtime. He’d be walking through their front door in a matter of hours. Bucky took a deep breath and smiled to himself. He felt the tears coming again.

…..

Too nervous and excited to eat, Bucky sat on the aging sofa and thought back to the first time he and Sam had met. It was through a mutual friend. They stared at one another, coyly sizing the other man up. And when it came time to speak, their conversation flowed easily. They knew from that very moment that they wanted to know more about one another. They knew that they wanted one another, and everything else just fell into place. That was six years ago. And every moment in between was full of endearing love.

Now, as Bucky waited for the love of his life to return, he second guessed their feelings; he second guessed all that passed between them. And he was wrong for it. He knew that, and it hurt him so. What also hurt was the doubtful thoughts that his Sammy didn’t care for him anymore. It gnawed at his soul. He felt guilty.

When his phone received the notification from his beloved, he actually began to shake. He was so full of nerves that he needed to stand up and pace. Then he had to sit down again because his knees were weak. He needed to remind himself that it was Sam. Samuel Thomas Wilson. The man he married. The man who helped him believe in himself. The man who loved him unconditionally. His Sammy.

Bucky glanced at the screen and saw that Sam was five minutes away. He was _on_ his way; he was nearly home. Bucky took the deepest of breaths, steadied his countenance and waited. He waited for his husband to arrive. It seemed as if the minutes were dragging. As if it was taking forever. Bucky’s nerves grew and grew. He rubbed his hand over the spot where his arm used to be. He wondered how Sam was going to react to seeing him without the appendage. His doubts threatened to take over. But no sooner than he doubted himself that he heard the key unlock the door to their home. He held his breath and sat up straight.

“Bucky?” said Sam tentatively. “Buck? You here?”

Bucky froze. It had been so long since he had heard Sam’s smooth, soothing voice in the same room as him. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“Buck?”

“Sammy?” he replied, taking a stand and glancing toward the door. “Sam?”

The air between them was filled with electricity. Sam dropped his rucksack and rushed forward. He moved toward Bucky with such urgency and need that it brought tears to Bucky’s eyes. They fell into one another’s embrace and melted.

“Bucky,” said Sam; his voice was shaky.

“Sammy,” Bucky replied as he wrapped his arm about his husband’s frame. “Baby.”

Tears fell from their eyes as they held one another. Both were filled with need and yearning. They could not stop the sobs that escaped them. Sam cupped Bucky’s face and pressed a loving kiss to his lips. Bucky deepened it and drew his Sammy closer.

“I missed you so much, baby,” said Sam in between sobs. “So, so much.”

Bucky could scarcely form words.

“I missed you, too,” he offered, before stepping back and checking Sam over. He looked Sam up and down, and then made sure he was in one piece. “You good?”

“Yeah, babe,” said Sam with a bright smile. “I’m good. Are you?”

“Yeah,” said Bucky, as he gripped Sam tighter. “I’m good. Fuck. I missed you. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I know,” said Sam. “I know.”

They embraced once more, pressing kisses to every single piece of exposed skin. Holding one another like there would be no tomorrow. Relishing in the feeling of each other. Bucky stepped back. He took in Sam’s appearance once again. He wiped the tears from Sam’s eyes and cupped his perfect face.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” said Bucky.

“Same,” said Sam. “I’m so sorry it took so long, baby.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky replied. “As long as you’re here now.”

They found their way to the sofa and flopped down beside one another. Bucky entwined his fingers with Sam’s and they simply stared at each other. Content in knowing that they were together again. Suddenly, Bucky felt self-conscious. He sat up and then held Sam’s gaze.

“I’m different,” he whispered, dipping his head.

“What?” asked Sam.

“I’m different,” Bucky repeated. “I’m not the same person I was.”

“Do you still love me?” asked Sam.

“Of course I do,” Bucky offered.

“Are you still the same asshole who keeps me in check? The same man who calls me out on my bullshit?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you the exact same person I fell in love with?” Sam queried, as he stroked Bucky’s face.

“I hope so,” Bucky proffered. “I want to be the same man you love.”

“Well, you are,” said Sam. “You are. I still love you. And I know you still love me. And goddamn it, Buck; that’s all that counts. You _are_ different and you _have_ changed, but my love for you isn’t and hasn’t.”

Bucky stared at Sam a moment, taking in all that he was saying.

“What matters to me is that you’re the same loving, caring, selfless person. How you’ve changed, losing your arm, doesn’t make you less of a man or any less of a husband to me. What matters is that we still love each other. You have to see that, Buck. You just have to.”

Silence pervaded as Sam rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder. “You have to see it, babe.”

Bucky lifted Sam’s hand and brought his knuckles to his lips. He kissed them gently and then turned his head to face Sam.

“I do,” he whispered. “I see it now. Thank you, Sammy.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Buck. Just know that I love you always. No matter what.”

With that, they shared another loving kiss and then held each other long into the night. Both thankful that they had the chance to be reunited; that they had the chance to help one another get through the hard times.

Everyone who knew him said that Bucky Barnes was a confident sonofabitch. He had a confident demeanor; always walked around with his head held high; never shied away from attention; he didn’t mind being in the spotlight. What everyone didn’t really know was that Bucky Barnes was a grateful sonofabitch. He was grateful that the person he loved most in the world had come home to him. He was grateful that, despite their hardships, they would face the world head-on, at each other’s sides, and with the knowledge that they would endure and persevere, drawing strength and love from the one who meant the world to them.


End file.
